


I'm the violence in the pouring rain

by idratherhaveyoucursedornot



Series: Moments in Between [2]
Category: Purple Hyacinth - Ephemerys & Sophism (Webcomic)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Assassins, Bella-centric, Belladona DAMNNPORT ONLY, Belladona deserves the world and she'll get it on her own, F/M, Fear and Terror, Gen, I KNOW NOTHING ELSE, Idiots in Love, Kieran x Angst, Lauki if you squint, Okay Kiki and Ren are there too lol, Regrets? No regrets, Ren is also there if you squint I promise, Simp Kieran White, because even if it isn't about Lauki, dark vibes, it is still about Lauki
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:35:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28027137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idratherhaveyoucursedornot/pseuds/idratherhaveyoucursedornot
Summary: Belladona:Borrowed from Italian belladonna (literally “beautiful lady”), altered by folk etymology from Medieval Latinblādōna(“nightshade”).See also:Atropa belladonna,a poisonous perennial herbaceous plant.Belladona had always lived up to her name.AlternativelyWhat happens when Kieran goes after Belladona aftershe kills Sake.Characters and vision belonging toSophismandEphemerys. Castles from theiroriginal workmade into air by yours truly.***Super slow update
Relationships: Belladona Davenport & Kieran White, Belladona Davenport & Original Female Character(s), Kieran White & Lauren Sinclair
Series: Moments in Between [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2054388
Kudos: 39





	I'm the violence in the pouring rain

**Author's Note:**

> Warning for depictions of gore, though not any different or more severe than the original work, I guess.

_Sold her soul to the devil.  
Spinning around in circles.  
Raising hell.  
That’s all she has ever known. _

**~ 10 years old ~**

The streets of Ardhalis had never been kind. It had been a year that she had been by herself and it never got any easier. Braving through the storm that had taken up her life, she would trudge through, snow and sorrow alike. Ardhalis was known for its magnificence and cordiality. A complete sham! The Ardhalis winters had always been cold, but the heart of the city, its people had been a lot colder for far longer.

Wandering through the streets, she reminisced about the places that could provide her shelter. She could see a man at the corner, trying to garner the attention of the people walking by. Bella drew her sleeves closer to herself, taking a turn before the corner. People like that always spelt trouble in Greychapel. Counting on one hand, the number of abandoned buildings that could hold their own against the seeping winter chill, she made her way past the stall of baked goods on St. Lorentz. 

With nothing to look forward to, and no one to call friend, all she could do was make sure she survived. What for, she didn’t quite know yet. Still, it had taken a while for her to learn to steal. Food never came easy, and although, outside Greychapel, she still had a chance of being offered food, it was more often a pretentious act of charity from people who could never truly understand what a roofless winter did to a person, much less a defenceless child.

_Here’s the thing that happens. Sometimes when you focus on doing the good, you limit yourself, forgetting that what you should strive to be is better._

These were the kind of people, the _nobles_ , who would distribute Christmas leftovers to kids like her and then go home to the warmth of their plush beds and hearty fireplaces. These were the kind of people to turn a blind eye to the solutions that could make any real difference, in favour of convincing _themselves_ that they were making an difference. In favour of convincing themselves that they were good people, and not selfish hypocrites.

_Here’s another thing. Sometimes when you focus on doing a bad deed, you are more than likely to find a way to get away with it._

Bella walked by the bakery stall. She would walk by this particular stall every day, enthralling the kind vendor in conversation. It had become a ritual. A gentle smile on her face, all innocent and vulnerable, she would walk past the stall every single day. One day, when the winter had been dreary enough to turn the patties she had hid into frozen rocks, she had stolen a warm loaf of bread from the stall, while chatting with the vendor.

The next day the lady greeted her, as she always did, and Bella walked away far too quickly on wobbly legs avoiding her gaze. The unaware kind-heart had even complained to Bella about the missing loaf, oblivious that the thief was right in front of her eyes. It had weighed on her. The lies. They weighed on her until her pangs of hunger would calm down from the warmth of the bread. People see innocence, and they worship it, admonishing all else. They would rather believe innocence, no matter if it was just a pretence. That’s just how people were, and although the lies left a bitter aftertaste, it was better than the pain of an empty stomach. It always will be. 

**~ 13 years old ~**

The Phantom Scythe had given her a life, once more. Anya ended up on the receiving end of her frustrations, hand broken in the rage of the moment. It was a schedule of sorts at the Foxtrot. Sparring. No one who had the goodwill of receiving shelter at the Foxtrot was barred from it. The Messenger had been urging Bella to fight more viciously, to fight as if her life was on the line. When the pair of them had failed to be as rancorous as the lead coating on the arcade doors, the Messenger assured them that their life _would_ be on the line, lest they fail to track their orders.

A threat. Not a _new_ threat, exactly. She had heard it enough times, known the Messenger for a while now, to know the difference between ridicule and menace. To know when he would follow through on his promises and when he would abandon his own word, the same way that they had been made to abandon their hopes of freedom. There was no freedom here. Not really. Bella did what she had to.

Dodging Anya’s punch, she tripped her, making her fall slam face down on the ground. Once on the ground, she pinned Anya below her, with whatever strength remained in her wiry arms after the hectic chores of the day. Stretching Anya’s hand over her shoulder, she paused, looking at the Messenger for further commands. To stop, or to take that step forward into what would fundamentally change who she was. He made no move. _Go on_ , his silence seemed to scream at her.

One more step, one more movement and the line would be _drawn_ and _crossed_. Though Anya whimpered in pain below her, the match wasn’t over yet.

A crack. A cry. A step. A clap.

The Messenger clapped. As if on cue, Bella let go of Anya’s now-broken arm, stepping back from her. The Messenger nodded at her. Anya looked back at her, stumbling to get away. It was the first time in her life, that someone had looked at her in fear and it felt _good_. She took another step back from the girl, and a step forward towards the woman she was destined to become. Brushing her blonde hair out of her face, she welcomed the chaotic fire of her actions, unknowing that fire is all what she would grow to behold.

The Messenger led her to the end of the arcade, through the crowds of children watching in dismay. He told her of her supposed mission in a circus, but she could hardly register his words over the fear that seemed to ebb and flow towards her at every turn of the compound, flowing from the eyes of kids like her. _No_. Not like _her_. Not _anymore_. They all had their crosses to bear but none of them had crossed the line as she had. Not _one_ of them, not even a single one truly looked at her. They stared at her in horror, and when she would turn around, they would all turn away. They would all pretend as if they weren’t glaring holes into her form.

Fear. Horror. Disgust. Whatever it was, it was _good_.

For the first time in a long while, the hushed whispers amongst the children at the Foxtrot were about more than just the brutal boy with stone-cold, blue eyes. People leave when you take all their expectations of you and smash them with a hammer. People _also_ leave even if you are nice to them. _Nobody_ ever stays next to _anybody_ without self-serving motives. People will leave either way. At least, fear keeps them from stepping out of line.

**~ 19 years old ~**

Either you give or you take.

Life was a transaction, and it never mattered what the currency was. The _fee_ was survival and the _reward_ was survival as well. Such a _dichotomy_. Yet, it never felt like a reward. Survival was not even close to what these people pretended it to be, goaded it into being. Five kills under her belt, in a year no less, and quickly rising up to be a formidable member of the Scythe, Belladona walked into the Grimm Goblin.

Belladona. The name. The woman. The poison. All alike.

You couldn’t have one without facing the other. The last face that her victims had seen, almost angelic in its virtue. _Almost_. The last thing they had tasted. The tang of blood, as they choked on their own sins and charities. The last that they ever _tasted_ of life, the last that they ever _felt_ from life, being _terror_ and _pain_. _Inexorable_ terror and pain. Unable to fight back, unable to even scream for help, they would succumb to the pure, unadulterated terror, as she would saunter over their bodies.

Honestly, it had taken the trial and error of two kills for her to find her calling card. When her third target, a man in his twenties had succumbed to the poison in her hands, it had felt just _right_. Taking on the mantle of her namesake, she turned to poisons, and embellishing her sins with the grandiose of her wit, she turned to daggers. Sharp. Bifurcal. Deadly. Her choice dagger was especially fashioned into the ideal shape of a viper at its hilt, a nod to her lethality in snuffing her prey of their souls.

A snake more than anything else, she moved like the Viper whose poison she blithely borrowed for her endeavours. Moving like a shadow of the night, she would find her prey, poisoning them when she had taken all that they could give, and finally she would walk back into the shadows, though, not _before_ watching the swan song play through to the end, and oh! What a spectacle it was!

Spinning her dagger precariously, much to the horror of the bar’s patrons, she walked through, amused. It was an interesting dagger. She had grown to be quite fond of it. Her competence, the dread she brought about with her presence, showed in the way that the sea of people parted at the supremacy of her poison-laced staff. The disturbed expressions on their faces and the pure terror in the room adding minutes to her fated end.

Walking to the back of the bar, she readied herself to meet the Messenger, who had another target for her. She would never hesitate, and she would never step back. All she had to protect, was _herself_. All she had to fight for, was _herself_. She wouldn’t fall prey to folly. File in hand, she walked out of the bar, and into the warm summer breeze. Life was a transaction, and a reward lay, probably asleep, on Elmore Street, all hers for the reaping.

**~ Now ~**

‘You already killed Sake. There’s no need to go after Sinclair.’

Sword tucked in the curve of his coat, he urged Bella, as Lauren watched from behind the barrels. Bella laughed. Swatting the file in her hand in the air, she mocked him, ‘Oh, is that what this is about? A girl?’

Kieran gritted, ‘ **No** , this is about not letting any more _innocents_ burn. The brunt of it all will be born by orphans like you and me, and you _know_ it.’ 

He was always persistent on reason. The monster who refused to accept his fate. Called himself a heartless sinner, and bled red dread into the dead of every night. A handsome paradox, _indeed_.

Bella stepped closer to him, holding the file behind her back with both hands, ‘What have you become, Mr. PH? Will _you_ stop the leader?’

‘Someone has to.’

Kieran was a fool. That much sure hasn’t changed. He was a naïve fool. Straightening up, glare colder than the chill in the air, she cautioned him, ‘You are walking on a fine line over the flames of hell, and when you fall, and oh, _yes_ , you will, _I’ll_ be the one setting you ablaze. Have you forgotten, we _both_ are fire, Kieran? We _burn_.’

Never one to pay heed to any cues, he took a step forward, the same as her. He bit back, ‘Don’t tell me that’s why _you_ are still following VII? If you stop now, you can _still_ lead a good life.’

Eyes fixated on his clenched jaw, Bella chuckled, dark and low, ‘Lead a good life? **I never was found of your humour** , _Kiki_.’

Deflating, Kieran stared at her, penitence etched in the lines of his brow. He confirmed, ‘So, you’ll go along with his plans?’

Bella exhaled. She had her daggers, and he had his swords. It was, but, a game after all, and they were the _pawns_. Leaning close, Bella whispered in his ear, ‘Someone has to.’

A splash and a trickle of blood. Red drops falling onto the dirt, Kieran crashed to the floor. By the time the glint of the dagger caught Lauren’s eye, it was already too late. Kieran coughed his lungs out, thrashing on the ground, clutching his side in pain and desperation.

Shifting her dagger back into obscurity, Bella drew her cloak closer to her. Through bloodshot eyes, Kieran looked up at her, just a bare dark silhouette visible through his lashes. Bella bent down, grabbing his hair to tilt his head back. Fangs already bare and having done the damage, once again she whispered in his ear, ‘I’ll fulfil your dying wish. Sinclair won’t die at _my_ hands.‘

She stood up then, stepping back to glare at him. Dusting off the dirt from her hands, she huffed, ‘As promised, a tickle for the _incompetent_ new spy of the 11th precinct. Don’t ever tell me I don’t deliver on my words. Maybe next time, you could just do your job. Bye, Kiki!’

The night still young, the notch of another noose to add onto her bedpost, she stepped over where Kieran lay face down in the dirt. Turning no mind to the scene, and heedless of any evils lurking in the shadows, she disappeared in the dark. What could the shadows possibly do to her that she hadn’t already done herself?

_Sold her soul to the devil.  
Spinning around in circles.  
Raising hell.  
That’s all she will ever know. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: *writes this* *reads the final draft* *breathes*  
> BELLA MA’AM YOU CAN STAB ME ANY TIME OH DEAR LORD
> 
> I SWEAR Bella is one of the best Chaotic Evil characters out there!!! I have this headcanon that whether or not Ardhalis burns, Bella is one of the few people who come out of this mess unscathed, and she ultimately escapes the country to live life by her own rules.
> 
> Maybe she continues to be an assassin for hire? Maybe she becomes a model in a foreign country? Maybe she opens her own boutique? Maybe she starts teaching self-defence to pricks outside of Ardhalis for a hefty fee? Who knows? HAHAHAHA
> 
> My love for Bella is dripping through, isn’t it? Oh, and if there isn’t the KieranxAngst ship, is it even my writing? lol   
> As I mentioned in my tags, this is a Bella-centric fic so yeah you can only see Lauren, Kiki and Lauki if you squint *shrugs*  
> Maybe if I am generous, the second chapter would be nicer?
> 
> Song for the fic: [Hurricane](https://open.spotify.com/track/5Dg2h1wsm7ZijCo0yLmbvR?si=7njTsojkSDClZh7w8zd6ng) by [Halsey](https://open.spotify.com/artist/26VFTg2z8YR0cCuwLzESi2?si=5d9dD-hLR0-VwPo2arE_ng)   
> Song for the chapter: Raise Hell by Dorothy
> 
> *[TSITA](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27247726/chapters/66564607) glares at me from the incomplete chapter 16*   
> Me: *nervous laughter*
> 
> Hope you had fun reading the fic!! Come say hello on [Tumblr](https://hugsforkiki.tumblr.com/) or [Instagram](https://www.instagram.com/hugsforkiki/)!!
> 
> Love, Peace!!

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos fuel the fire of my writing forges ;)


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